Sunday, August 2, 2009

Crazier than scaditch…

I pulled the package out of my saddle bag and walked into the post office. Helmet under my arm, black leather jacket still zipped tight. Three people in line, hmmm…not to bad, I would be out of here in 10 minutes. The lady in front of me turned and eyed me up and down with squinted eyes. The eyes hesitated just slightly at my helmet and leather jacket. “Why do you keep following me?” she said loudly. “ Were you watching me at me at my house?”“Ma’am I am just here mailing a package I don’t know you.” I took a step back giving the lady more personal space.“Are you with the CIA? Have you bugged my phones? Why are you people following me?” Her cadence had lifted and now the teller was eyeing her and me. I backed up one more step the person behind making room.“Lady, I have never seen you before. I am here just like you trying to mail a package.”“Well, you are not going to keep me from mailing my package!”As softly as my voice could muster, “No, ma’am, I would not want to do that, why do you think someone is following you?”“See, there you go trying to get information out of me, just leave me alone!”“Sure thing ma’am the teller is ready to help you,” point past her.Carefully, she moved forward and I could hear her whispering to the teller I was following her.Her business done, she left and soon my business was completed. Riding a motorcycle takes a bit of doing to get everything situated, there is the helmet, the gloves; any parcels must be stowed in the saddle bags. While my getting ready to take off all at once the crazy lady was there, right up close. Now her words to me were irrational and made no sense. I knew they were meant to be accusatory. I listened just like I was listening to any other crazy person, with my bike as a protective barrier between us. Finally I guess she said everything she needed to say. It might of helped that the lady behind me in the post office came and helped rescue me. Being kind of creeped out, I headed home somewhat distracted.I was tempted to follow crazy lady just to give her a little reality but then I realized that would just be cruel and might end in jail time. I have thought about crazy lady now and then and wondered how she is doing. Sorry, for no point to this story, it just happened, a strange interlude breaking up the mundane. It did make me feel very powerful that someone might think me a CIA agent. That night I had dreams of fast cars, hot women, and 007 stamped on my gun. Of course I woke up eventually – D’OH!

I'm glad you didn't follow her, that would only escalate the situationI had a neighbor who had some emotional issues, I forget what he was eventually diagnosed with. He would often shout at me when I parked my car, he would accuse me of all sorts of things. I finally figured out that he thought I was his ex-DIL and was reliving arguements with herMental illness is as much an illness as cancer or a broken limb - we wouldn't be unkind to those poor folks. I'm glad you were kind to this poor soul

Blunt edges – Are you one of those people who comes to a red light at 2:00 in the morning when there are no other cars in the road but you will still sit there waiting for the light to turn green just because it is the law? You’re not one of those people are you?Now look when have you ever seen a CIA agent with a beautiful woman or driving a fast car? No – they are always driving a Buick. Besides they don’t call each other cool names like 007 – they use names like Roy or Sam – what’s cool about that? And, have you seen what they wear? Gray suits - I think they got them from the rummage sale at IBM.

Choco: Did you mean Roadkill? Just kidding…I will think about getting a custom license plate made with ROADQUILL stampped on it, especially since Dianne thinks it sounds so sexy.

Dianne: A good reminder – it must be a tortured life to think someone is always after you. Great Comment!!Sounds Sexy Huh? Now that word hasn’t been used in my direction for several decades and before that maybe it was just my imagination

Blunt edges: You are wearing me out – surely you understand the difference between imaginary spy world and the real spy world. Just in case let me clear it up. In imaginary spy world CIA agents can be anything as long as they are cool. In real spy world CIA agents are dorks. In imaginary spy world CIA agents get to have songs, like “Secret Agent Man” playing as they walk down the street. They get cool names like 007 and they get to have great English accents and maybe even have a shoe phone – oops that’s not even cool in imaginary spy world. So to answer your question/ Of course I want to be a CIA agent - in imaginary spy land.

Choco: Praying for Grayquill, hmm….Choco, Grayquill might not even exist? I mean Grayquill could just be a computer somewhere writing to you.Dave: "Open the pod bay door, HAL" HAL: "I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that."Kinda creepy huh?

Brown Phantom: Have you ever wondered how close you were to really making that one very bad mistake, just because of an impulse? That is one of the benefits of age the impulse to do things that could end badly, weakens.

Grayquill..what is your command prompt? Does Dave have a big house? Do you handle his bank accounts and the likes too? That means you have his emm pwords too umm...heheh...Wanna be my friend comp??? :)

As Dianne said, mental illness is as bad/ worse than physical ones - considering how they have no clue of what reality is. Back in India, poor people who have mental illness are in such a sorry state. Most of them laugh for no reason but some of them abuse passersby. I leave it upto your imagination to guess how they are treated.

:D ahem so, u stalk ppl as well. Multitasking .. first you are stared down to death by people who think u beat your own wife.. Now this.. i think I shall have to hire a ddetective seriously to know what's going on.. There has to be something about you that psyches out people.. HeeHaww.. They are coming for you...Damn this one was creepily funny